Fatal Error
by Silverthreads
Summary: Chekov's decisions and the fallout thereof.
1. Part One

Fatal Error 

Well, this was written a number of years ago and only just now to upload it to ff.net As usual, standard disclaimers apply.

**Fatal Error**

**_ Part One _**

Another explosion. Emergency lights dimmed... Then winked off completely. Before anyone had a chance to recover their bearings, another shockwave barreled through the already badly wounded starship. Screams and cries... and orders barked out with determined desperation -- all fought with the roar of undamped flames and hissing showers of sparks. The captain didn't need a status report. He knew there was nothing left. Nothing but death for him and his crew. Gyrating firelight and unsteady console lights gave the bridge a weird illumination. Beneath his jacket, the captain's shirt was wet and sticky with blood from a wound he didn't want to acknowledge. He felt more of the fluid trickling down the side of his face. He didn't feel any pain, but that was because of the natural rush of endorphines. It could run out any time. And so could he. He hated just waiting for death. It wasn't right! He should have been able to prevent this disaster! 

"Sir, I think our last transmission got through --!" 

Captain Pavel Chekov nodded at the yelled report. So, at least Starfleet might know their fate. Unprovoked attack by unknown assailants who could fire while cloaked...! No power. Shields malfunctioned, weapons systems failed -- suspect sabotage -- (He more than suspected it, he needed no more proof than that these malfunctions had occurred on his ship!) -- The artificial gravity flexed as another phaser barrage struck the helpless starship. The roll unbalanced him, Chekov staggered into his chair. 

Desperate for some scheme to rescue his crew and ship, all he could think of was that Captain Kirk would have found a way. And Captain Chekov had not. And so his ship and his crew were going to die. 

He saw them die --

* * *

Space can seem boundless and lonely between star systems. Nothing but parsec after parsec of apparent emptiness decorated with infinitely distant pinpricks of light. On _Excelsior's_ main viewscreen a dark patch obscured a portion of those far off suns. The dark patch was a nearly powerless starship drifting without will, merely obeying the laws of Newtonian mechanics.

"She looks dead," the Navigator murmured in hushed tones.

"She's not," Captain Sulu's deep voice reminded the officer. They had made contact over an hour ago. Not that that had helped anything. The ambushed starship's communications system was erratic and apparently so was her crew. Sulu glanced back at his own communications officer. "How're they doing Tomyn?"

"They're desperate sir. they -- ah. A Lt. Commander Motz wishes to speak with you."

"On scr--"

"Audio only, sir."

Sulu nodded; waited a beat for Tomyn's signal, "Captain Sulu here, commander. What happened? Where's your captain and first officer?"

"We - we were attacked. good God -- no provocation, no warning -- we don't even know who they are much less why they did this!" Hysteria tinted the male voice.

"Why didn't you defend--?"

"We tried! Lord, how we tried! Everything - everything went haywire! Look we need help. We got a lot of wounded. Our sickbay -- it - it's a shambles. Dr. Reyes is dead..." The voice trembled to silence.

"We are prepared to receive your wounded," Sulu told him. And feeling like a heel added,"I hate to go into this now, but you have to know, we do have to make an investigation."

"I understand sir."

"Good. I'll let you speak with transporter chief Whitefeather."

"Thank you sir." The voice really did sound relieved.

"Rand, you have the conn. Be alert."

"Aye Captain." Janice Rand nodded grimly. she'd seen disasters before. They were none of them to be taken lightly. she wasn't about to let anything like that happen to this ship.

Sulu found the transporter bay almost clogged with _Excelsior's_medical personnel and their more portable equipment. He caught his CMO's eye and started over to her. "What are we getting, Deborah?"

"Ninety-two seriously injured Hikaru. Bunch more that claim they can wait. I'm going on what their nurses told me." Chief Medical Officer Deborah Levesque grimaced, her unlined olive features suddenly seeming aged. "Thirteen deaths. One of them was their doctor, Mauricio Reyes. We interned together." 

"I'm sorry."

"Later. I don't have time for that now." She gathered her grief and trundled it off to be dealt with at another time. The first of the wounded were being beamed over, all her concern had to be for them. 

While his CMO and her staff worked, Sulu waited in the background, standing next to the transporter chief and staying out of the way. Only eight of the ninety-two were conscious but even they were in no condition to be questioned. Nonetheless, Captain Sulu remained to watch the medical team at their work. 

The intercom chimed softly, "Bridge to Captain." 

"Sulu here." 

"Lt. Commander Motz again."

"Pipe it through."

"Aye sir." 

"Captain Sulu?" The voice was unsteady.

"Commander, we have received your wounded. I'd like to offer to send over damage control teams to assist your recovery."

"Yes. We could use the help."

"I take it you've assumed command."

"I'm the only one left. The Captain... I guess he's dead--"

The lump appeared in in Sulu's throat. His jaws clenched tightly around the emotion. When Pavel hadn't been among the wounded he'd tried not to think of it, but there was no avoiding it now. But... "You guess?" 

"Sir, we - we haven't found his body yet. Commanders Levy and Savati are among the wounded. That leaves me."

"I see. We need to talk, commander. I'll be beaming over with the first DC party."

"Aye sir. Thank you."

Sulu kept the com engaged. "Tomyn, assemble the repair teams." The bay was emptying as the medics and the last of their patients relocated to sickbay. this was bad, no doubt about it. It had been a while since he'd seen such gruesome devastation. He mentally cringed at what he imagined the starship _Mir_ herself must look like. Damn, Pavel, how could you let this happen? He recalled how elated his friend had been to receive the command. The _Mir_ was by no means as large or as grand a ship as the _Excelsior,_ but she was special. Full of the latest in AI, fast, strong, and requiring less than two-thirds the crew of similar ships. God, not M5 all over again. A sickening dread swelled from the pit of his stomach. No, he rebuked his own illogical supposition. Of course not; nothing like that. _Mir's_ AI was not capable of independent action or thought.

Ambush. Sabotage. According to the last messages received, that's what Chekov had concluded. But who was behind it? No one had claimed responsibility; the Admiralty hadn't a clue... 

As promised, Hikaru Sulu transported to the smaller ship with the first team. Despite his experiences with other disasters, he was taken aback by the devastation that greeted his arrival. The bitter stench of seared equipment, furnishings, and even bulkheads, permeated the air. smoke still drifted from ducts and dead, twisted arrangements of useless equipment, the emergency lighting seemed unusually dim and eerie. Voices drifted with the smoke, angry and frustrated that this should have happened to them. Still they worked valiantly to salvage their ship. 

Sulu caught at a passing engineering tech whose white e-suit was covered with soot and grime and blood. "Where can I find Commander Motz?" 

"I --"

"Right here." A silhouette that just missed being imposing moved toward Sulu.

"Thank you," Sulu dismissed the tech who nodded and scurried off to whatever business had led him this way in the first place. Sulu waited patiently until he could make out the Commander's grim features. "Commander Motz."

"Yes, Captain Sulu. That's me... You said... we have to talk." Motz sighed. "I know what you want. You want to know what happened. Lord! So do I!" 

"Is there anyplace less busy...?" Sulu's small gesture encompassed the whole buzzing room.

"Yes... The arboretum." His voice was soft, almost reticent as he invited, "This way, sir."

Sulu kept pace with him following his lead by saying nothing as they hiked through cluttered hallways. The arboretum was... well, disaster was not nearly a strong enough word to describe the dull grey heaps of ash and rubble. The only indication that this place had housed any plants at all was the singed stump of a once brilliantly orange-red Ka!Tani tree. Hearing a small, distressed sound from Motz, he turned. Tears were running down the man's face. 

"My sister was a botanist. She... made this place special..."

"She-?"

"She was one of the thirteen killed."

"I'm sorry." That explained a lot. That the man was still functioning impressed Sulu. He must be -- have been -- one of Chekov's best officers.

"Thanks." Motz sighed. "How do you want to begin?" He went to a stone bench that had suffered nothing more damaging than a chip broken off one corner. Absently, his hand brushed at the ashen coating.

"You were attacked. Tell me about that."

Motz shrugged. "We were headed to the research station at Temulku, you know, the archeological site maintained by the Vulcan Science Academy. Way out at nowhere. Uh... There wasn't any warning. This phaser shot came out of nowhere. Right on target! Captain ordered shields up; they kept hitting us! No evasive maneuver worked! We couldn't see them!" His hands clenched into fists.

"Did you fire any of your weapons?" Sulu asked as gently as he could.

"Yes. We tried. Two photon torpedoes exploded just as they left their bays. Phasers -- just sat there. I couldn't get them to fire! Shields dropped -- they should have held! I heard the helmsman report her controls were down. Captain sent a message. He thought there'd been sabotage. They kept at us. And then, just when I thought we were sure to buy it, they stopped." He stared helplessly at Captain Sulu. "Just like that! They stopped. For all I know they're still out there. Waiting for you..."

"They didn't communicate --?"

Motz gave a derisive snort. "I'd say they used their weapons as their mouthpiece."

"They gave no reason for their attack."

"None, sir." 

"And their weapons?"

"Conventional. You know, it's really galling. We should have been able to take them. Even if they were cloaked. We've done it before."

"Yes. The Romulan attack on Borauch. I heard about that."

"I think the Captain was right. We were sabotaged."

"Have you found his body yet?"

"No not yet." He looked, if possible, even more grim and a little apologetic, "I can't worry about it though. The living need my concern first."

"Indeed." Sulu wanted to hate himself for agreeing. But the man's priorities were exactly the ones Chekov would have wanted. "I'll let you get back to that in a minute. First I'd like to have the ship's logs."

"I figured you would. Won't help much. The computer stopped recording around the time the shields went down."

* * *

Hikaru Sulu stifled a growl. He'd watched the whole incident replayed, unaware of his fingers digging into the arms of his chair. He hated it. He hated seeing Pavel fail so horribly to save his crew and ship. The worst thing about it was that he should have succeeded! Sulu almost wished he had been there. But even his piloting skills would not have helped. The ship behaved contrarily, responding with uncharacteristic malevolence. The moment the shields had dropped he knew Chekov's conclusion was a valid one; the only one possible. Nothing else but sabotage could account for this catastrophe. The logs ended there. He had only hearsay to fill in the rest. 

"Oh Pavel," he mourned, and without wanting to, saw his friend as he'd first met him; an intense, driven kid just out of the Academy who hid his shyness and insecurity behind a façade of reckless bravado. Dammit! I'll get them! Pavel, I swear I will! Hikaru shocked himself when his fist slammed down on his desktop. Thankfully he was alone in his quarters where none could observe his outburst.

* * *

He saw them die. Through an unwavering and blinding illumination, he saw his ship being ripped apart. he heard their screams. He saw them die. God! He should have been there with them! It was his obligation to die with them if he couldn't save them! Cowards! he railed at his hidden abductors. They'd beamed him off the bridge just before the end... Murderers! Show yourselves! 

No one and nothing answered him. Nor were any questions put to him.

Not that he'd have answered them.

_An explosion's shockwave rattled the ship..._

Why am I here? What do you want? Where is here?! Hell. He almost laughed. he didn't believe in hell. But surely this would do; this frigid, static explosion of brilliance sucking the heat from his body, this assault of his mind with reiterations of the hundreds of deaths he had not prevented. So cold; so bright; his eyes burned from the avalanche of sub-zero novae. He squeezed them shut but it made no difference. It was still painfully bright and the images remained. He felt nothing of whatever bonds held him floating within the core of this heatless sun. The only sensation that proved he was not dead and the butt of some horrible cosmic joke was a constant constricting ache in his upper arms and shoulders resulting from the awkward way they had been pulled back and up behind him. He thought he might be able to alleviate the pain a little.

_They were screaming..._

He tried to twist his fingers around whatever rope or chain suspended him. His palms slid over cold, razor sharp blades. He gasped and recoiled. The same burning ice slashed down his side; across the backs of his legs -- He jerked away and more of them slid into him. They were everywhere and he couldn't see --! Stop moving! His body jerked and trembled as he forced himself to stiffened stillness. He let his body fall into whatever position had been designed for him.

_The ship exploded in vacuum's silence, hurtling its remains outwards. Cold fiery death took his crew again. _

What was the purpose of this imprisonment and torture? There had to be a purpose -- didn't there? Of course, of course. 'I won't cooperate' -- he didn't have the strength to whisper, much less shout out such defiance. He didn't even know what or who he was defying.

_An explosion ripped through..._

* * *

James T. Kirk still commanded from the center seat of the starship _Enterprise._ But they rarely saw the kind of action they had once done too many years ago. He was a Fleet Captain. The half-hearted gesture of respect for an aging officer whom politics could neither disown nor promote. sometimes the position was more bureaucracy than substance and then he wouldn't have minded giving it back. But the power was real. He was the captain of the _Enterprise._ Even if it sometimes seemed like he spent more time in Starfleet meetings than engaged in Starfleet exploration. 

The incident involving the _Mir_ had captured his attention. It was so damned odd an attack! An attack that cut off just short of total annihilation; by an invisible and unknown enemy that did not make any claims. It was far easier to deduce who it was not. Not the Klingons, they still needed Federation assistance too much. Not the Romulans, the region of space in question was far distant from any that interested them. The Orions? No, they didn't -- couldn't -- have that kind of technology! Dismissing all the Federation's known enemies left a conclusion no one wanted to deal with; someone unknown. Good God! Kirk had groaned to himself as he listened to the report on his monitor, yet another power player!

Without needing to be asked, Captain Sulu had been sending him complete reports on the incident and his investigation of it. Sulu was a good friend and a more than competent captain. So Kirk had been content to stay out of the younger man's way. But things had suddenly changed. And not just because Sulu might have reached an impasse. Starfleet still hesitated on the decision of whether or not the still missing captain of the _Mir_ had been negligent. By everything Sulu had found, they'd have to decide he was not. That meant they'd have to consider Chekov's suspicions of sabotage to be valid. And perpetrated on behalf of an unknown and extremely dangerous enemy.

That Sulu had been forced to admit that there was probably nothing more to be learned at the site was not, however, what had the _Enterprise_ rushing through space at warp 8. It was the mysterious challenge that had found its way into Kirk's computer mailbox that precipitated this dash. The message was untraceable; a feat requiring as complete an understanding of Starfleet communications security as few people were capable of having. Or a link that would be dangerous to allow to remain unchecked. The message had been coded but Kirk had no difficulty decoding it. It was but a single image and a set of coordinates. It was the image that made his decision; Pavel Chekov, barely recognizable as a fixture in a nightmarish setting only a demented mind would devise, held suspended among a haphazard weave of glowing beams of pale fluorescence by some invisible force. The coordinates were the location of a black hole located a mere 87 parsecs from the site of the _Mir's_ altercation.

Kirk glanced at his chronometer. Very shortly the _Enterprise_ would be arriving at the coordinates where he and Sulu had decided to rendezvous. He grabbed his duffel and strode out into the corridor. He'd taken less than a half dozen steps when he heard a stern voice call out his name. He turned and saw his security chief, Lt. Commander N*Ruth rounding the bend. She looked, if it were possible, even more severe than usual. He smiled anyway. "N*Ruth, good afternoon."

"Sir. I should like to express my doubts regarding the action you and Captain Sulu propose to take." She was not one who was ever less than forthright on any matter.

"I'm not an admiral any more; I'm allowed to take a few risks," he said it with one of his famous half smiles.

"Sir, you're not --" She cut herself off.

"Yes? Not a young man any more? that's what you want to say." He started walking again. Well, he wasn't. But that wasn't going to stop him. It hadn't yet.

She had fallen in step with him. "Even the young need not be foolish."

"So you think I'm being foolish."

"I think you will need some security, sir."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Yes."

He didn't answer immediately. That didn't faze her. She kept pace with him, patient for his decision. He halted again and turned as if to bore through her with his hazel gaze. "Commander, there is a bit more to this than you are aware of. I was the recipient of a message that gave me these coordinates. I've been invited, you haven't."

"But you think it will be dangerous, else why sign out a phaser rifle as well as a standard phaser?"

"It isn't a friendly invitation."

"It is a trap. You are still feared by many of the Federation's enemies." She was not a young and inexperienced woman; she had no qualms about speaking her mind to her captain. She tried, however, to be scrupulously tactful.

"It is most certainly a trap. But I don't have any choice. The bait is a Starfleet officer."

"Sir?"

"It would seem the _Mir_ was attacked in order to kidnap her captain. He, in turn, is the bait they've chosen to lure me into the picture."

"Rumor has it the _Mir_ never saw her attackers. That implies the impossible -- that the enemy has the capability to beam while cloaked."

Kirk shook his head, "Nothing so dramatic, Commander. There was a period when the _Mir_ did not have any sensor capabilities, they would not have been able to detect their attacker even if he'd decloaked."

"And not to have noticed any transporter effect?" He'd started walking again and she had to jog a bit to catch up.

"Not so easy to explain," he conceded. "Butt hey were panicked, and the technology for soft beaming has been discussed..." The turbolift doors opened a moment after his arrival before them.

"So this is personal for you," she slipped in after him. "Nonetheless, I must insist. You will need security."

"Now who's being foolish? I don't doubt that someone wants to kill me." He gave the waiting lift a destination.

"Do you wish to die?"

"Of course not."

"Then you will need security."

Such persistence did not strike him as being particularly logical. But although N*Ruth was Vulcanoid, hailing form a a world that had long ago been colonized during Vulcan's Second Expansion, there were pointed differences between her people's and Spock's. some of these were the result of physical adaptations, others were psychological and philosophical. N*Ruth was never quite what people expected. "There are no guarantees, Commander. You know that."

"I'm in security, remember? We never get guarantees." As the lift slowed to a halt and opened its doors, she flashed him a grin disarming his concern.

He wasn't going to win this one unless he made it a direct order. And in reality, he knew she'd be an asset to the team. "All right. You're invited."

Not twenty minutes later she found herself sitting in an aisle seat in one of _Excelsior's_ shuttlecraft, craning her neck to get a good look at the forward portal's view of the ominously silent ship or station or whatever it was that was waiting for them. Its appearance was one of the most alien she'd ever seen; an asymmetrical wedge with a bulb at one end. As far as she could tell, a totally illogical design.

Up front the two captains were more intent on their consoles than on the view. Sulu was piloting, Kirk minding tactical. Clearly neither expected this to be an uneventful ride. So far they'd been wrong. This surprised N*Ruth as much as it must have surprised them. But the shuttle was already almost on top of the --

"Sulu! It's powering up phasers!" Kirk's warning slashed through her reverie. 

In answer the pilot arched his craft upwards and over onto its side. Of course she didn't feel anything. N*Ruth knew what was happening only because she saw the image of the object flip onto its side and slide out of view. then it was back, at some random angle and closer. But only for a moment. She realized Captain Sulu was dodging the phaser barrage. From where she sat there was no way to discern how close their attacker came to hitting them. At least not until and unless they actually scored a hit. An event Captain Sulu was obviously working hard to prevent from happening. The smaller images on the console screens shifted and ducked, spun and gyrated with disconcerting randomness. rarely a silent flash of light told her that a phaser blast had just missed the tiny craft. After a short while she noticed one thing that was not random. Sulu was slowly bringing them closer and closer to the giant vessel or station. Sooner rather than later they'd have to give up their attack on the small Federation ship. Unless they were suicidal. The shuttlecraft would reach a distance such that should it explode, the destruction of the larger vehicle was also assured. Would they be so fanatical?

Ten minutes later she had an answer. "Enemy weapons are powering down." Kirk's announcement filled her with relief. Fanatics they were not then. Did that mean they could be reasoned with after all?

Sulu was not as optimistic as N*Ruth. He continued to give the shuttle an erratic guidance. Finally they were so close she felt certain the seams of the alien craft should have been monstrously obvious. the only way any weapon could blast them now was if the shuttle was parked in front of the weapon itself! Captain Sulu chose an emergency hatch instead.

It opened as if welcoming their visit. "I don't like this," Sulu muttered, his voice nearly a deep growl.

Kirk's answering grimace was not reassuring. their hosts' sudden friendliness had not made him any more comfortable about this escapade either.

Gritting his teeth, Hikaru Sulu gently nudged the shuttle inside. Out of the corner of his eye he saw on one of the console viewscreens the aft image of the hatch closing behind them. 'Clang' his imagination generated a sound to accompany the unnerving disappearance of space and stars. "Well, we're in. Landing... and powering down the engines." He heard N*Ruth in the rear begin assembling their gear. She certainly didn't waste time brooding about the unknown. Beside him Kirk was still busy with ship's sensors. It was not a good idea to go barreling out into what was certainly enemy territory without some foreknowledge. 

"Standard atmosphere," Kirk reported as collectedly as any Vulcan. "One gee gravity; temperature just outside the shuttle is 8.92 degrees Celsius --"

"Field jackets really will come in handy for a change," the pilot interjected wryly.

"-- and rising slowly."

"Considerate of our hosts. I wonder where they are."

Kirk shook his head. "Life signs indeterminate."

"Pavel's here."

"That's what the message implied."

"Hell. Let's go find him. They'll --" he gestured vaguely beyond their shuttle's bulkheads, "talk to us when they're ready." Sulu surged up from his chair.

"Hikaru," Kirk's hand fell on the other man's arm effectively detaining him.

Sulu shook it off, "Yeah, I know. it's a trap. But we already expected that."

Kirk nodded once. "All right." He turned to the rear of the compartment. "N*Ruth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I'm coming with you."

Her captain knew when not to argue with her. he smiled congenially. "Of course you are."

Her point established, the security chief passed out their field jackets, phasers, communicators, and other such equipment they had decided was necessary. They exited and while Sulu saw to the ship's security N*Ruth and Kirk studied tricorder readings. The presence of life besides their own was certain. Whose it was, was not. However it did seem this life was confined to one site only in this eerie place.

Finally satisfied no unauthorized entry could be forced, Sulu joined them asking, "Ready?"

"I don't have to remind you both to be careful, right?" Kirk hesitated again.

"No sir, you do not." N*Ruth replied in all seriousness.

"We're wasting time," Sulu insisted.

N*Ruth pointed to a door seamed in the far wall. "That appears to be the only access inside."

That simplified things. They hurried towards the door -- but just about three meters from it Kirk lurched to a halt and flung out an arm. "Hold it!"

"What?!" Both Sulu and N*Ruth barely managed not to plow into him as they pulled up short to a stop. "Tricorder readings --"

"It's too easy," Kirk said over the security chief's objection.

Sulu's eyes snapped back to the waiting door. "Yeah..." he turned thoughtful, his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Got an idea. Wait--" he was already sprinting back to the shuttle. N*Ruth glanced at Kirk who was still eyeing the distance ahead. A few moments later Sulu returned and tossed something -- a small tool -- forward. N*Ruth almost jumped as a simple laser shot out from somewhere above the door catching the flying object in mid air. The tool's trajectory changed only slightly. When it clattered to the floor smoke wafted from a singed hole in its middle. "Not very sophisticated, but effective," Sulu acknowledged begrudgingly.

"Not very imaginative," N*Ruth added disdainfully. "It's the same trick they tried outside." She pulled out her phaser and fired, hitting the motion sensor built into the door just about eye level. Too late Kirk grabbed her arm to try to stop her.

A cross hatch of invisible laser beams erupted at this trigger, hissing strangely and etching burn marks into the floor where they hit.

Sulu frowned. That wasn't the lasers hissing -- "Gas!" He pointed to tiny vents unobtrusively built into the wall near the door. A faint haze of grey spewed out from them making the laser beams visible as it drifted through the rays. As a single unit the Federation officers backed away -- 

The beams shut off.

The door slid open. Another invitation? The gas was still pouring in, its slightly sweet scent beginning to stick to the backs of their throats. N*Ruth was a blur as she changed direction, flinging herself forward --

The door slammed shut just as she flew through. The lattice grille of laser beams returned. 

"Damn." Kirk said to Sulu's shocked expression. He opened his mouth to say more but a fit of coughing preempted further comments.

Sulu was coughing too, his throat constricting around cloying particles of gas coming at them from all parts of the bay. He heard Kirk gasping and choking. He couldn't see the other man, or anything else. He eyes were closed and tearing; molasses was filling his ears, throat, and mouth. A giant hand was closing around him... He found his phaser almost by instinct. He aimed -- Dammit! The door -- where was the door? he forced recalcitrant eyes to open to a stinging squint. Angles were all wrong; he didn't realize he'd fallen to his knees. The door, he reminded himself through the drowning wash of gas. his arms were lead but he gripped the phaser with two-handed determination and aimed toward the dark panel that had to house the door's controlling mechanism. He focused on that alone. Fire! The fist closed around him. He...

...came to lying on a cold hard floor, gulping huge portions of sweet cold air. His memory refused to confirm or deny the impression that he'd disabled the mechanism that locked them in the poisoned bay. someone moaned; then swore. Kirk, he identified the voice relieved they'd both survived. he forced his eyes open as he pushed himself up on his elbows. A broad corridor moved out before him. We-we _did_ get out??? He couldn't find any clue in his memory that hinted at that. There was the fog and the door and his phaser, and nothing else.

As soft footfalls came up behind him he rolled to his feet, phaser in hand. Purely an instinctive action.

"I am relieved to see you seem not to be suffering any ill effects due to the gas," Kirk's security chief greeted not in the least perturbed by his aggressive stance.

"Ah. Well, some small amount of confusion perhaps," Sulu replied as he returned his weapon to his belt. He turned to assist Kirk but the older man had already climbed to his feet.

"Lt. Commander, that was very foolish," Kirk scolded N*Ruth.

"Yes sir," she did not disagree. "But I was able to get the door open and fixed that way until I could drag the two of you out." She topped her unimpassioned explanation with an incongruously stunning grin.

It didn't quite diffuse Kirk's chagrin. "I suppose you have a point but don't go making a habit of such recklessness."

"Especially around here!" Sulu added vehemently as he eyed the walls and ceiling with open suspicion.

"Aye sirs." She didn't seem in the least contrite however. 

"So what have you been up to while we were... ah... indisposed?" Kirk let the incident slide. "Are you still picking up indications of life?"

"They remain. Nor have they changed position. I am not convinced they are human however."

"What?!"

"The readings are inconclusive, Captain Sulu," she responded calmly to that officer's shocked expletive. "There is some interference whose source I cannot determine but it renders tricorder scans less than optimally accurate." She paused and chewed her lip thoughtfully before continuing. "We know this is a trap. It is very possible Captain Chekov is no longer alive. Sirs, all that is necessary, from the point of view of our host is that you believe Captain Chekov may be alive..." She trailed off realizing from their faces they did indeed have that belief.

"Which way are the life signs you are reading?" Sulu asked sharply.

"That way." She pointed down the corridor. "About 800 meters. The center of the bulb. There is a lift in a side corridor near here."

"Personally, I'm not particularly sanguine about riding in anything that has the slightest chance of crashing." Sulu vetoed the idea. 

"Nor am I," Kirk agreed. "It'll take longer, but walking is undoubtedly safer than riding." They all started off in the direction the security chief had indicated. "N*Ruth--"

"Sir?"

"Thanks for getting us out of there."

"My pleasure sir."

* * *

Eight hundred meters along a straight, narrow corridor. A surprisingly uneventful eight hundred meters. Now that they had reached its end Sulu was certain something had to happen at any moment.

Ahead the corridor split into two curved branches. A shutter like door embedded in the wall directly before them twisted open invitingly. Beyond, a thick blackness enticed them with hidden secrets. The three Federation officers hesitated. 

"N*Ruth?" Kirk asked volumes in the single worded query.

"Life signs directly ahead..." she paused to make some new adjustment to her tricorder. "Human. If there is a trap it isn't one that registers."

"N*Ruth, you wait here. Hikaru --"

Sulu had his phaser out and with a nod started forward. He crossed the threshold almost as cautiously as he should have. As if in response to his presence a dim cone of light abruptly fell from the ceiling a few meters ahead. It took a single panicky moment for his eyes to adjust. "Pavel!" He cried recognizing the crumpled figure heaped in the center of the spotlight. He rushed forward unmindful of Kirk's warning in the background. A deep rumbling began resonating. That halted him as sharply as a security barrier.

"Welcome, James Kirk," a distorted voice greeted. "You have forty-five minutes remaining."

Kirk had followed just behind Sulu. "What?! Who is this?!" He scanned the room desperate for some clue --

"Sirs! There is a power surge! I-I believe the engines on this thing have been powered up!" N*Ruth's fealty to logic did not preclude her displaying her surprise at this development.

"Engines!" Sulu hissed jerking his head around to look at his companions. "They're going to send this thing into the black hole!" he cried with impossible certainty. "We have to get out of here!" He ran to the form still sprawled in the dim light cone. Of course it was Chekov. Pale, unconscious, but still breathing though weakly. His bedraggled uniform was stained dark with drying blood. Swearing softly Sulu started to reposition his friend in order to heft him over a shoulder.

"No!" N*Ruth's shriek made him freeze. "Don't move! There is a pressure sensitive device -- If you move off that plate we will be blown up!"

Sulu resettled Chekov on the floor. It was obvious then, a faint dark seam that enclosed them in a large circle. His heart sank as he recognized his own unforgivable carelessness. In the background he heard Kirk's voice ask tightly, "Can we disarm it? Where are the controls? The trigger?"

N*Ruth's voice came back with forced calm. "The trigger is beneath the floor. The controls... I think... they must be -- there!"

Both Sulu and Kirk strained to see where 'there' was. The cone of light did not extend outward far enough for them to see anything. Kirk got out and activated one of the small hand held lamps N*Ruth had included as possibly necessary equipment. Holding the lamp and a tricorder before him, he slowly advanced toward the indicated site. Sulu turned his attention back to Chekov. "N*Ruth, I need the first aid kit."

"Aye sir," the security officer called back. That was one of the items she'd been carrying. She moved quickly to the edge of the circle nearest Sulu careful not to cross over the seam and add her weight to that already atop the trap. While he rummaged through its contents her gaze was drawn to the unnaturally pale, unconscious human. He did not seem to her to be breathing but he must have been for Captain Sulu to be so intent on caring for him.

"Commander, is there a surgical laser in that medical kit?" The query came from Kirk who had come to a blank wall. 

"Sir?" 

"A surgical laser! A phaser's beam is too broad," he explained tersely. She understood at once. He meant to cut into the wall! She spun the kit around to better see inside... Yes, clasped to the inside of the top were three of those instruments. She grabbed one and ran it over to her Captain. 

"Surely these aren't powerful enough to cut through a wall," she voiced her doubt as he changed its settings.

Kirk offered a grim smile as he finished. "You'd be surprised at the strength of some of the settings. Medics have had to operate on people other than humans and Vulcans." 

She watched him operate on the wall... 

"Time , Commander," Kirk demanded without looking up from his work. It was slow going, this cutting through the wall. And then there'd be disarming the device -- 

"Twenty minutes left sir." N*Ruth listened to the delicate sizzle of the laser burning through whatever substance had been used to construct the wall. Some thin, unfamiliar metal. Her Vulcanoid auditory sense also let her keep track of the soft rustle of Captain Sulu's movements. She also heard his breathless whisper, "Oh god!" She jerked her head around. He looked back at her with an expression of one who senses impending doom. "Sir...?"

"We're moving!" Sulu almost had to shout to get the words out. He'd felt a whisper of a shudder pass through him and knew immediately what it meant. "Get out!" he yelled at Kirk and N*Ruth.

"No!" Kirk yelled back. He kept working but now he felt a tremor run the length of his arms... N*Ruth stayed silently at his side. 

When the laser clattered to the floor N*Ruth instinctively bent to pick it up. But Kirk had let it drop and he was now studying the maze of unfamiliar workings. "The sensor..." he muttered, "We've got to make it think the weight is still there..." The security officer did not make a sound. This was not a good time to distract him. 

In the center of the room Sulu repacked the medical kit. He'd done what he could, but what his friend really needed was available only in sickbay. The closest sickbay was... hopefully out of harm's way. 

_"Khalodno,"_ a faint whisper complained. 

"Pavel!" Sulu looked down. Chewkov's eyes were still closed, his breathing weak. But he was shivering even with Sulu's field jacket wrapped around him. Sulu cradled his friend in his arms, "Hush, it's all right..." Then he heard phaser fire --

"It's locked!" Kirk announced triumphantly. "Let's get out of here!" 

N*Ruth commandeered the job of carrying Captain Chekov, lifting him up as though he weighed no more than a child. Sulu grabbed the medical kit and fell in behind Kirk. He tried not to be surprised when they didn't blow up. 

They ran down the hall, back the way they'd come. Sulu had lost track of time but he didn't think they had much left. Almost halfway there Kirk, in the lead, slammed into an invisible barrier. There was a crackling sound like the discharge of static electricity and he was flung backwards into N*Ruth. Sulu had just enough time to swerve and skid to a halt. he bent to help them disentangle themselves. No one stated the obvious. 

"There's got to be another way --" Sulu grabbed the tricorder and fiddled with its controls. "Back that way --" he gestured toward the bulb and started running. Almost immediately charging full tilt into another barrier! He felt someone tug at him to help him up. Kirk's concerned hazel eyes studied his dark ones. 

"I'm sorry Hikaru," the older man said mournfully. He turned to N*Ruth who stared at him unbelievingly. "I didn't --" 

"I chose to accompany you sir," the woman insisted but her voice wavered a little. She knelt to lower Chekov to the floor. 

Three communicators beeped.

Sulu was the first to answer. "Sulu here! Can you beam us out?" He didn't care who it was at the other end! 

"Sir, you are moving!" the voice said nervously. 

"Captain," a different voice took over, "we are working on that."

"Spock!" Kirk gasped, startled to hear the voice he'd last heard on Vulcan seemingly eons ago. "What are you--?" 

"There isn't much time. Kindly --" a burst of static drowned out the rest. 

"Spock? Spock!" 

There was only static. 

And then the welcome tingle of the transporter effect -- 

"Welcome home!" The transporter chief greeted the newly formed figures.

* * *

Part Two 


	2. Part Two

Fatal Error 

** Fatal Error**

**_ Part Two _**

It was unusual for all of them to be anywhere at the same time. But this was an unusual occasion. Talks between the Federation, the Klingons, and the Romulans were being held on some neutral, uninhabited planet near the Romulan-Federation Neutral Zone. All three sides would have enough ships there to begin and end a minor holocaust. 

Hikaru Sulu recalled his conversation with the captain of another Federation starship. 

"Vell, the fate of the Universe rests once more in our hands," Pavel Chekov had quipped wryly, his accent adding a fluid undertone to his comment. The _Mir_ had recently arrived to add her might to the Federation presence. The neutral planet was located in a sector regularly patrolled by _Mir._

Sulu had laughed at his friend's pessimism. "Everyone is behaving. I don't think much is going to get done, but I also don't think anyone wants to start a war either." 

Chekov's dubious look nearly made the older captain laugh. But Chekov took it very seriously. "For the Romulans, var between Klingons and Federation vould be most velcome. They could sit back and vatch us both deplete our strengths. They vouldn't find too much resistance vhen they decide to enter the contest. For the Klingons -- also useful. For much the same reasons. For us --" here he had sighed, "--I suppose there are some who vould like to see the Romulans and Klingons tear each other apart." 

"So you think this whole thing is some kind of ruse --?" 

"I think it is a vaste of time! Is anything going to change? Does anyone vant peace really?" 

"Wow! You get more and more cynical every time I see you! Are you ok?" 

"I am fine. I just vould like to see some progress for a change. This is not the Tventy-first century. Ve are supposed to be civilized!" 

"Um... The whole idea of these talks is to deal with problems in a civilized manner." Sulu had not liked the depressing turn the conversation had started to take. 

Chekov had looked at him as if he thought the _Excelsior's_ captain had lost his mind. "You must be joking! You vill see tomorrow." Tomorrow all senior officers were to be planetside for the first day of the conference. No one liked it. It meant leaving uneasy and inexperienced juniors upstairs where some frightened ensign could start a war when he accidentally fires a photon torpedo down on the meeting site. Sometimes diplomats and the brass showed an amazing lack of common sense. 

"Tomorrow everyone will be sooo polite," Sulu had grinned back. 

Well, it was tomorrow and everyone was sooo polite. Sulu looked around the large hall trying to find Chekov among the milling masses of costumes and uniforms. This was supposed to be an informal reception before the precise choreography of the opening speeches. The Klingons, tall and massive in their ornate uniforms, stood in tight knots of aggressive confusion. The Romulans adopted a studied aura of aloof disdain and seemed far more at ease. The Federation contingent mostly looked miserable. At least the Starfleet people did. The diplomats looked anxious but not nervous. For his own part, Sulu felt relaxed and had a pleasant smile for anyone who looked his way. He didn't see Pavel anywhere and it was getting late. Pavel hated these things. Maybe he'd found a way to get out of it. Sulu smiled to himself at that thought. 

A slight commotion brought his attention to the large double doors that led to the meeting hall. Federation President T'Lio, looking as unruffled as only a Vulcan could, had started toward this exit accompanied by an aide and Captain James Kirk. 

Someone jostled Sulu's arm as he brushed past the starship captain. "Hey!" Sulu growled at the retreating back. Then he recognized the other man and called out, "Pavel--!" The other man didn't hear him; he simply continued on his way, squeezing unceremoniously past a group of tall, silent Romulans. 

Chekov halted directly in front of T'Lio, his left hand reaching out -- a phaser shot struck the president! Sulu charged forward as did Kirk and several others. Too late. Chekov quickly turned the phaser on himself and fired before anyone reached him. 

* * *

"Simply stated he has completely withdrawn into himself." _Excelsior's_ CMO explained to all the dour looks crowding around the only occupied bed in her sickbay. "There is nothing I can do about it. I don't know why he's like this in the first place. I'm no psychologist -- I doubt they could tell you either." 

"Can he at least hear us? Does he know we're here?" Sulu asked, looking unhappily down at the insensate prisoner. 

"Maybe. I can't tell. Some of them do, some don't. I'll bet he doesn't want to." 

"We have to interrogate him," T'Lio's security chief, an Andoran by the name of Valcalthian, insisted. "This man shot the President with a phaser set on 'kill.'" 

"Set to kill, but it was capable only of medium stun." Captain Kirk reminded Valcalthian. 

"Even more reason to find out what he was about. I can not believe he is a starship captain!" 

A commotion at the door distracted them, a nurse's voice complaining "-- you should rest --" and T'Lio's calm insistence, "I am fully recovered, thank you," as she continued past the medical officer and into the ward where Pavel Chekov was both patient and prisoner. She stopped at the foot of the bed. Her dark blue eyes made an emotionless study of her assailant. 

"Madam President --" Valcalthion began solicitously but her cold expression stopped him short. Her eyes flicked up to the diagnostic panel, then to Kirk, Sulu... "I understand you are acquainted with Captain Chekov." 

"Yes," Kirk replied first. "He served with me on the _Enterprise._ He became a friend." 

Sulu nodded agreement, "We've both known him a long time."

"Indeed." 

It occurred to Sulu that 'a long time' was a decidedly relative phrase. What was long to him was probably only a short interval to a woman of 120 or so years. 

"Why has he not recovered? Do Terrans require very much longer to recover from phaser stun than Vulcans?"

The CMO looked exasperated and repeated, "I don't know what's going on in his head, but he's a Starfleet officer who just shot the Federation president in front of a roomful of witnesses -- In vernacular terms, he's warped out. I don't know anything I can do about it!" 

T'Lio turned an impassive stare on the volatile little physician and cocked an eyebrow at her. She turned to Kirk and Sulu directing her comments to them, "We don't have time to be gentle. Three rather powerful forces are waiting to determine their futures. Captain Chekov's actions make it apparent someone does not wish these talks to go forward. He is our only source of information at this time."

She moved around the side of the bed forcing Dr. Levesque to give up her place. The President startled them all by leaning forward to place her fingertips at precise locations on the prisoner's face. Her eyes closed, signaling her entering a meditative state. There hadn't been time to stop her and now no one dared interrupt the session. On the other hand, she wasn't the only one who wanted answers. 

After a while Levesque tore her eyes from this motionless tableau to check the diagnostic panel above the bed. For what, she wasn't sure. It did not indicate any change was taking place in her patient. Valcalthian wore an expression of tense disapproval and seemed hard put not to begin pacing. Kirk and Sulu simply waited. They'd seen Spock mind meld enough times to be both certain she knew what she was doing and worried about the sanity of both participants. 

T'Lio's vibrant scream slashed through the tense silence just before she was thrown backwards. Valcalthian caught her only because he happened to be in the way. "I am unhurt," T'Lio quickly assured them before anything got out of hand. Surprisingly, her voice was strong and firm.

* * *

Pavel Chekov heard a scream coming from very far away. It was not in his nature to ignore such a desperate plea. He rushed to answer the terrified summons... 

Awareness calm like dawn; slowly, inexorably. He opened his eyes. And immediately regretted that action. It triggered a steady pounding inside his skull which was directly proportional to the dizzying rhythm of a spinning blue-grey ceiling. Not only that, but his whole body ached and his stomach lurched with motion sickness. Who had stunned him and why had they done so? 

"Pavel," a familiar voice intoned uncertainly. 

Chekov realized he'd shut his eyes again. Not that it had helped any. He forced them to open again and noticed several blurry faces floating above him. This was crazy! "Hikaru?" he asked with profound disbelief. One of the faces nodded; solidified. It was indeed his friend's. "Vhat is going on? Vhat are you doing here?" And, since it occurred to him he was somewhere he didn't recognize, "Vhere am I?" 

"You're in sickbay on the _Excelsior,_ Sulu answered the last and easiest question first. 

Chekov tried to sit up and discovered the restraints that held him prisoner. "Vhat is dis?" he demanded, his accent thicker than ever.

"You-you shot President T'Lio and then yourself."

"Don't be ridiculous!" A nightmare? Except Pavel was sure he was awake.

"You had an unauthorized phaser. Pavel, why?" This time it was James Kirk's voice and face he recognized.

"Vhat are you talking about? Vhat--?"

"A whole roomful of people saw you!" Someone, a very blue someone whom he did not recognize, barked at him. 

"How could I do that? I am here and President is --"

"Is also here," Kirk interjected.

Chekov frowned. His thoughts were muddled by some thick fuzziness. This wasn't making sense. The possibilities were not very promising. "Vhy is T'Lio on Koréss? Vhy are you?" he challenged. 

"Koréss!" Sulu gasped, "We're nowhere near Koréss!" 

"Ve vere assigned to transport personnel and supplies to the science outpost on Koréss --" 

"Pavel--" 

"Tell me now vhat is going on!" Chekov was almost shouting and he strained to break free of the straps that imprisoned him. 

"Truly he doesn't remember," a silver haired Vulcan stated matter-of-factly. 

The blue Andoran made a rude noise of disgust, "He is trying to play the fool. Thinks he'll get off with some sort of amnesia nonsense." He glared malevolently at the prisoner, "Who are you working for?!" 

"I did not shoot anyone!"

"Pavel," Sulu again, "Even I saw you."

"No!" Pavel shot back.

"He is not lying. He does not remember the incident nor the time interval preceding it back to this mission to Koréss," the Vulcan offered firmly.

"Madam President! Vulcans, perhaps, never lie, but the rest of us do so and frequently!" The Andoran protested exasperatedly.

"I have performed the mind meld with him, Commander Valcalthian. He is not lying. But, Captain, you did shoot me."

"I remember no such thing." Chekov repeated his denial. But there was less vehemence in his declaration. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible. Could he really be missing a whole chunk of his life? Sulu claimed to have witnessed these actions! _"Bozhe!"_ I do not remember! I have no reason--"

"If you don't remember how do you know you have no reason?!" Valcalthian countered adroitly.

Good point, Chekov conceded to himself. And he had no answer to it. "There has to be investigation. _I_ vant to know vhy I tried to assassinate Pres-- the President. And vhy I failed." It apparently wasn't quick reflexes on anyone's part. He'd shot her and had enough time to shoot himself. According to these witnesses. God! Sulu was his friend! He wouldn't lie! "Do you have de veapon? If I vanted to murder someone vould not I have set my phaser to kill?"

"The phaser was set to kill, Pavel," Kirk told him. "For some reason it had been fixed so that no matter how high the setting, medium stun was the worst it would do."

Pavel blinked surprise at this information. Then he understood. The humorless laugh that rose out of his throat startled even himself. "I do not suppose this is all some hallucination? No. All _I know_ is that _Mir_ is in orbit about Koréss. Ve are preparing to depart tomorrow."

"What was your next assignment?" Kirk asked.

A sly grin twisted Chekov's features. "No. First you prove to me you are who you say you are."

"Pavel--"

"Prove it! Or find another trick. Am I stupid? I vake up vit' all of you vaiting. I am tied up, I an veak and sick; perhaps you have drugged me. You t'ink you catch me off guard. But I am not so stupid! Not nearly so naive as vhen I am young!" His Standard deteriorated as his fury increased. He caught himself and continued more surely, "No. Prove yourselves to me."

"Paranoid, aren't we?" The supposedly human woman who'd been standing quietly in the background clucked with wry amusement. 

"He's playing games," the 'Andoran' snarled. "You think you are smart? You won't get away with this! Who are you working for?!"

"Pavel--"

That was the worst. Hearing voices that could have passed for Kirk's or Sulu's; seeing faces that could have been theirs. The Vulcan remained silent. The intended target coming to his defense. Vulcan indeed. Romulan more likely. Was she the architect of this farce? He focused his gaze on her. "Dis vill not vork. You are Romulan, not Vulcan!" 

"Deluded! He's deluded!" the fake physician chortled.

"There are no Romulans near Koréss," the one that looked like Sulu argued in a perfect Sulu voice.

"Vhat have you done vit' my crew and ship?!"

"They're fine. We haven't done anything to them," the one imitating Kirk was almost convincing.

"Prove it."

"What will you accept?"

"Beam me back to my ship."

"I knew it!" the 'Andoran' sputtered. "This is ridiculous!"

* * *

Hikaru Sulu was on hand when Valcalthian and his guards returned with Chekov. A very subdued Chekov. The hurt in his eyes startled Sulu. Until he realized how unbearable it must be; to finally be forced to accept the fact that he'd tried to murder someone; to face people whose loyalty and trust and friendship have been yanked away; to be confronted by all this and not have any memory of the action that brought his life to this dreadful moment. For Sulu, it was more than frustrating to be unable to do anything to help his friend. He reached out with words he knew where hollow and useless. "I'm sorry Pavel," was all he had. 

Chekov nodded absently. He had no desire to engage in conversation and refused to make eye contact. He wished Sulu to leave him alone and he didn't feel like arguing about it. He heard Valcalthian ask Sulu for maximum security for 'his' prisoner, that his own guards would augment Sulu's. He heard Sulu's incensed reply that his people knew their jobs... He wished this whole thing was over already. He went docily when a guard touched his arm and gestured. 

Sulu watched them go. He turned to the Andoran more than a little irately. "What happened?" 

"He is convinced," Valcalthian flicked his wrist in the Andoran gesture equivalent to a shrug. "And I am ready to admit that perhaps he truly does not recall the incident." 

"Isn't that what T'Lio said?" Sulu shot back.

"Vulcans may be superbly evolved beings but they are not infallible." 

"So now what?" 

"We don't know that Captain Chekov was working alone. If he was, fine. The doctors can have him. If not, then T'Lio is still very much in danger." Valcalthian leaned toward the smaller human. "He's your friend. I've a proposal for him and I think he'd take it better from you than from me."

"What is it?"

"Chemical Assisted Hypnosis."

* * *

Dr. Levesque shook her head. "It's dangerous and the results are questionable at best."

"You just want to play at psychiatry!" Valcalthian accused her 

Levesque shrugged broadly, unimpressed by his overacting. "I admit I've always been fascinated by normal behavior, but I assure you that is irrelevant. I simply will not condone CAH." 

"I don't understand," Sulu interrupted before Valcalthian and his CMO managed to escalate their disagreement, "How is it dangerous?"

"The cause of Captain Chekov's amnesia is unknown--"

"Guilt!" Valcalthian snapped in exasperation.

Levesque shot him a dirty look and continued, "Without knowing the cause I can't guarantee the procedure won't do more harm than good. Assuming it does any good at all."

"Why wouldn't it?"

Levesque sighed. "It's not a case of administering a dose or two of some miracle drug and viola! Instant recall. A person is more than a chain of memories strung together. Some patients have been pushed over the edge." 

"You are exaggerating -- anyway you'll have control --"

"No, I won't Commander Valcalthian! That's a problem too. If I really could have control the odds would be better. I'm not going to subject an otherwise healthy and sane individual to an unproven technique that could leave him insane or worse -- a vegetable!"

"Deborah, is there any other procedure that might help?"

"Well, he might regain his memories for his derision of her suggestion.

"One other choice, then," Levesque frowned at Sulu. "Telepathy."

* * *

"I don't like it," Valcalthion said for what Sulu easily guessed was not the first time.

T'Lio halted outside the entrance to security. With typical Vulcan patience she addressed her escort. "Commander, we have been over this. I will not subject Captain Chekov to the dangers of Chemical Assisted Hypnosis, nor will I ask another to subject herself to whatever emotions are tangled with the captain's hidden memories."

"You are my prime concern, T'Lio. If anything should happen--"

"Commander, no one expects you to take responsibility for the effects of my decisions." She looked pointedly away from him. She would give no more time to addressing his objections. "Captain Sulu, please lead on."

With a nod Sulu escorted the President, Valcalthian, and an unusually pensive Dr. Levesque to Chekov's cell. 

They found him stretched out on the cell's bunk, wide awake and staring at the ceiling. "I do not remember anyt'ing," he said without bothering to look at them. 

It was clear to Sulu he'd been trying to though. And equally clear his effort and his failure to do so were wearing hard. "Dr. Levesque had a suggestion that might help." Sulu offered carefully. "You can say 'no.'" 

After a moment of uncharacteristic indecision Chekov pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the cot. "So? Vhat is it?"

"Mind meld," T'Lio answered. 

"I see." Chekov was desperate to learn why he had committed a heinous action he could not recall but was doomed to pay for. He did not hesitate on this decision. "Do it." 

"It may not be pleasant." T'Lio warned.

"It is not pleasant already," Chekov replied with a fatalistic shrug that was characteristic of him, but didn't make Sulu any happier, it was his opinion that his friend tended to give himself too readily to despondency. "Unpleasantness is not a deterrent." He seemed to look at Sulu more than anyone else when he said this.

Sulu signaled an unseen security guard. The force field dissolved with a reluctant hum. He wanted to reassure his friend as well as himself; but there were no reassurance available. He followed T'Lio and Levesque into the cell. His eyes briefly met Chekov's. 

"Don't vorry," the Russian's wan smile was unconvincing.

Chekov and T'Lio stood toe to toe. She was nearly a head taller so had to look down while his face tilted upwards.

"It is difficult for you to trust me," she acknowledged in low tones. 

"It doesn't matter," he whispered back.

Warm Vulcan fingers touched his face. That was all the sensation there was. For a moment. Then came the shock of her thoughts twining with his. She wanted him to relax, to void himself of emotion, of conscious thought. Of control. he recoiled at that, it went against his instincts and his training. But she held him! _Do not think,_ she wanted. Without letting him go she relaxed. His emotion filled mind swept unwittingly into her emotionless one. Two minds blended, infused one with the other. It was nothing either could have been prepared for. I'm drowning! The panic swelled. And subsided. Pavel thought back; yesterday, waking up in Sulu's sickbay. Before...

On the bridge of the _Mir._ On the viewscreen is the cloud covered planet Koréss -- No! Koréss is two weeks ago, his first mission since...

Since?

He is standing beside a shuttle. Someone is telling him he has to take things easy. He nods politely only so they will get done and let him get back to the _Mir._ She has been repaired, thirteen crew replaced. She is waiting for him.

And before that...

He is on the bridge of the _Mir,_ surrounded by panic. Surrounded by devastation. They are under attack by some invisible enemy. There are explosions--

He wakes in a bed, a nurse he doesn't know is standing over him. she smiles reassuringly and--

Nodding politely. The _Mir_ is waiting.

Wait. Concentrate. Between the Koréss mission and now. concentrate. 

Empty. 

Concentrate 

No time.

Concentrate.

Nothing special. Just the usual mundane daily -- Mama's birthday greeting came. Reminds me to look for the gift I picked up for her on some shore leave... Put it somewhere -- What is this?! 

Kneeling on the floor, he is pawing through a lockbox he keeps in the back of his closet. It holds the treasures of his emotions, keepsakes that take him back -- But this egg-like artifact is nothing he recognizes. Curious, he turns it over and over and it dawns on him that it is an unfamiliar design for a very familiar weapon. A phaser. What is it doing here? How did it get here?

He gets out some tools he hasn't used in a long time... About an hour later he closes up the device and returns it to its hiding place. he is perspiring though the ambient temperature in his quarters is as comfortable as always. It has been difficult to concentrate, as if the thing wanted him to ignore or forget its presence. He closes the box. A strange feeling, as if something has dropped out of his thoughts, overwhelms him. He recalls, with some disorientation, that he was looking for something. He wonders why those old tools are out.

Captain Kirk stands beside her; and her aide Salin. Time to begin... Someone, a Starfleet Captain, walks toward her. She is struck by the almost Vulcan lack of expression on his round face. His left hand comes up. The beam of a phaser --

I do not remember! But... yes, he does. Because she does --

They said I shot myself after that.

I do not remember. Look down.

His left hand rises.

What is in it?

Small, round. Fits in my palm.

Open the hand.

The phaser I found.

Remember.

Left hand raises up, the beam of a phaser -- strikes the Federation President. He turns it on himself -- It is not me doing this! -- and fires again. 

* * *

_"Nyet!"_ T'Lio cried out startling Sulu and the other two observers.

Valcalthian started forward but intellect won out over instinct. He knew better than to interfere when she was so dangerously involved.

T'Lio's free hand snaked around behind Chekov's back. A moment later he had collapsed backwards and only her support kept him from sinking to the floor. The link remained unbroken.

* * *

Nodding politely. By the shuttle. To take me home, to _Mir_... "Glad to have you back, Pavel," his First Officer beams. "Good to be back." In his cabin. Unpack; disks clothing, egg-shaped phaser, shoes --

Where did it come from?

Nodding politely; shaking hands. Shuttle -- no. Earlier? Nurse Appelanti hands him his bag all packed. "You'll find everything in there." "Thank you." Their fingers brush accidentally; he feels momentarily light-headed...

Look at her.

Tall, handsome. A warm, reassuring smile. Dark green eyes where the smile doesn't reach...

Medical base Nurse Appelanti. First person he sees when he comes to. "My crew... my ship --" "They are well. The _Mir_ is being repaired." "The crew... How many lost?" "Thirteen." "Injuries?" "Almost a hundred I think. But they've all been released."

The ship rocks with an explosion. All around him is death as the ship is torn apar--

What is this?

Emergency lights dim and go out just as another explosion buffets the ship. All the Universe is panicked noise and the thunder of a starship being bludgeoned to death. But there is no visible attacker. Fire! The weapons don't respond. No reason, they just don't -- Shields go down. An invitation to annihilation. Nothing he does is at all effective. As if the very soul of the starship _Mir_ is at odds with her crew and her captain. What else can it be but sabotage...?!

His body tingles when some mysterious transporter beam--

In his mind's eye he sees his starship rent into dust by one final barrage. He should have been able to save them! He screams in anger and frustration, and in agony. No! No! _No!_

But the _Mir_ was not destroyed. What is this? I remember, I remember.

God, god! It hurts! I let them die! Why are you doing this? I should have died with them. Answer me! My ship, my crew, my responsibility. Answer me -- what do you want?!

There is no answer. He is alone with images of dying crew. There is no resisting, nothing to resist. There is pain and he knows he is bleeding. Finally there is nothing. He is nothing, will be nothing. Nothing and alone. Then dead. Oh god it hurts!

Not dead. Not dark. The room is large, too large and strangely distorted. He is lying down. In bed. Nice...

The room's dimensions become less surreal but no smaller -- and his is the only bed. It is quiet. Except someone is moving about. Nurse. Starfleet nurse. "Nurse...?" his summons is much weaker than he expects but she hears and abandoning her pursuit comes over to him.

"Well, Captain. You're finally with us," her face seems unaccustomed to the smile she bestows on him.

"My crew... my ship...?" He fears to hear her response. Scenes of devastation replay themselves in his mind.

"They are well. The _Mir_ is almost finished with its repairs."

But he has seen Death and must know her tally. "How many..." his voice breaks but he pursues this question no matter that it breaks his heart, "How many... died?"

"Thirteen." Her reply is firm. Certain. It is a number; data. Nothing more.

"Injuries?"

"Almost a hundred I think, but they've all been released." She fusses with the bedclothes for a moment. Then a hypo appears in her hand. "You need to rest Captain."

He feels the injection...

Doctors come and go. They poke and prod and shove ear-splitting, bothersome devices at him. They ask questions or they ignore him. At least one of them seems able to do both at once. They are busy and he is but a single patient. Only the psychologist recognizes him as a person. The psychologist is a young man with thin red hair and a cheery smile worthy of his friend Hikaru Sulu. He loves his work.

"Well Captain. --" (The psychologist always starts off their sessions this way) "-- Physically you're ready to return to the _Mir_

"Yes." But I know you don't like it.

"You do understand; you've suffered a traumatic experience that you don't remember and don't _want_ to remember."

"I take your vord for it." Smile nicely.

"Um. Yes. Well... you may not get away so easily."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That is... you may experience certain -uh- difficulties. Nightmares."

"I have not so far."

"That is not to say you won't in the future. Look, if you do find yourself -uh- needing to discuss... anything, I am available."

"T'ank you. That is most kind." Stand. Shake hands...

Back in his room. Nurse Appelanti is waiting for him. "One last injection," she says, "Vitamin supplements." He endures this last vestige of ignominy. As usual the concoction makes him feel dizzy and light-headed. As usual (especially now!) he says nothing. "You'll find everything --"

I remember.

The phaser in the bag, along with things like toiletries, clothing...

I remember.

Remember more. Remember all of it. _Remember!_ Please no -- Remember! God! No! The thunder of death and destruction. Over and over and over! Pain that slices with every motion, pain that explodes and pain that sits like a heavy weight. Pain that is physical and pain that is emotional. The whole of life is this. I let them die! I should have saved them! A whole ship is blown into dust and wasted energy. God! What do you want? He asks and asks! Never is he answered! Then he stops asking; stops wanting to know. The pain is gone. The vision leaves him unmoved. Now he is empty and nothing.

Now he is Death.

Remember. Deeper. See with you eyes, hear with your ears, and give me all that your mind has recorded of these events.

It is dark.

I see it. Make it light.

It never was.

What do you hear?

Noth-- voices.

Yes, I hear them. But I cannot make out the words.

Laughter. There are no words.

There are. Listen to them.

No. "You will take the phaser with you. Get as close to her as possible, then fire. repeat these instructions."

* * *

Sulu found himself holding his breath. His friend was still a rag doll in the woman's grasp, his longish, dark hair clinging like wet strings to his perspiration dampened face and neck. T'Lio was faring only slightly better. Her dark skin, normally only faintly coppery-green, had taken on a rather sickly pallor. Both of them breathed raggedly as if it was a difficult task.

"I've had enough of this!" Valcalthian growled.

"Oh no --" Levesque grabbed an arm as he started toward the pair. Captain Sulu held the other arm.

"She knows what she's doing," Sulu said only half believing his own words.

* * *

There is a man. He is more shadow than substance. Except he sometimes enters the light and it exposes his face. He has no expression besides satisfaction. He does not speak except to repeat the instructions. I do not know him. Once he laughs and says it is a great joke.

Remember him. With all your will, remember him.

Yes.

* * *

Finally a change came over T'Lio. Her whole body shuddered. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a long slow sigh. Her eyes blinked, focused. She swayed weakly. Sulu and Valcalthian rushed forward. T'Lio handed off Chekov to them, refusing any assistance for herself. Valcalthian, impatient to return to the President's side, unceremoniously dumped the unconscious human onto the bed. His concern was not invalid, T'Lio's face wore an uncharacteristically dazed expression.

Sulu gave her time to recover simply by letting himself watch Levesque examine his friend. The physician threw him a single glance that was completely uninformative. "I'll know more when he wakes up," she admitted when he didn't go away.

T'Lio was waiting for his attention having somehow put the Andoran at his ease. He turned back to her. "What did you learn?" he asked with rather less formality than was customary.

The Vulcan took no offense, "He was programmed. Not willingly."

"By whom?" Valcalthian asked.

"There are two pertinent individuals with whom he came into contact. One of these is a nurse at a medical starbase. The other is the one who tortured him."

Sulu's understandably concerned expression exploded into shock. "Torture--! We thought it was a trap for Jim Kirk!"

"I don't understand."

"Captain Kirk received a message giving the location where Captain Chekov was being held. When we got there we found the place booby trapped."

"Then you were meant to escape."

"It didn't seem so at the time!"

"Ah. Perhaps that is what he meant by 'a great joke.'"

"Who?" Sulu half glanced over to where Chekov was semiconscious and none too happily enduring Levesque's ministrations.

"Captain Chekov's torturer."

"So he can identify these people." Valcalthian insisted.

T'Lio gave her guard a long stern look. "I know them as well as he. I will describe them. Security or Intelligence should be able to identify them. No doubt both have made themselves difficult to locate."

"But not impossible." The Andoran seemed almost inspired by the prospect of searching out these characters.

"What about Chekov?" Sulu asked.

"He is innocent, of course. Both morally and legally. If he passes psychology examinations he will retain his position as captain of the _Mir._" 

* * *

Part Three 


	3. Part Three

Fatal Error 

** Fatal Error **

**_ Part Three _**

The hall was filled to capacity with both participants and interested onlookers. There were whole families here to witness this historic occasion; the signing of a peace treaty between the Federation, the Klingons, and the Romulans. Sulu was as infected as any of the civilians. He grinned at the person sitting beside him. She gave him a polite look that said she thought he was nuts (but since she was one of his crew she tried not to be too obvious about it). He thought she should be more forgiving of the present speaker who was, Hikaru had to admit, overdoing it a little. He wanted to tell her to relax, to bask in the --

The sudden cacaphonic burst of a dozen staccato explosions shattered his elation.

"Terrorists!" Someone screamed.

There were none in the room yet but half the people were already trampling each other as they stampeded toward the two exits. The other half mostly dove for the cover of their chairs and tried to flatten themselves into the floor. Sulu scanned the room looking for --

Screams rushed from one of the sets of doors and the people near there leaped away to one side to the other. Someone pulled him down so he didn't see who or what had caused that deflection. But he heard clattering footsteps run into the auditorium and down the main aisle. "Nobody move!" a tense voice barked.

Frightened silence answered the order. Only a few small children dared cry. Then another voice, one very familiar to Sulu, calmly and firmly replied, "Put down your veapons. Now!"

No, Pavel! Sulu thought. He couldn't help but stick his head up and peek out. In the middle of the central aisle two traditionally armored Orion Mers fighters faced down a lone Starfleet officer. Though Chekov was standing on the raised platform in the front of the room he seemed very small compared to the two warriors he confronted.

"Put down _your_ weapon, Fed. Or we'll shoot everyone in here!"

Chekov hesitated and grimaced. "Yes, I suppose you vould. All right." His hand moved slowly to his hip. It came away at warp speed. He fired the phaser just a heartbeat before two explosive projectiles slammed into him. But his aim had been true. The two terrorists dropped to the floor, stunned.

"Pavel!" Sulu's bellow echoed through the cavernous hall. He jumped over seats, pushing his way through people slowly recovering their wits and bearings. "Move! Move!" he barked whenever anyone was careless enough to get in his way. Amorphous figures drifting on the stage hid his friend from view. "Move!" he yelled again shoving his way through the crowd gathering there. He heard someone retching, someone who couldn't take --

"Damn you!" he raged when he burst through to where his friend was sprawled on his back. Not one of these bureaucrats was doing anything more than stare. On the other hand there wasn't much anyone could do. Where Chekov's left knee and thigh should have been there was only a mangled mess of gore. His tunic, dark red with blood, hid what Sulu knew were mortal injuries. But he was conscious! Chekov's eyes were open and alert and they settled on Sulu's face. "Pavel, you idiot!" Sulu cried as he fell to his knees at his friend's side. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Dey vould hev killed a lot of people," Chekov explained valiantly. He took a deep breath that dissolved into a weak fit of coughing. "It hurts," he admitted breathlessly.

"I know." Sulu looked up at the stunned faces still milling around. "Dammit! Get a medic!" he raged. A woman ran off.

"Von't help," Chekov commented. And then, losing his bravado, gasped, "Hikaru, stay vit' me."

"You know I will. Take it easy, you're going to be fine." They both knew he was lying. He took Chekov's hand in his. The Russian's fingers twitched slightly and Sulu squeezed the almost limp hand tightly. "Oh Pavel --"

"Please, you write to my parents..." the plea faded weakly.

"Pavel!"

"Please."

"Yes. Yes, I will."

"Good." Chekov blinked slowly. His eyes started to close. Sulu's heart raced. But then Chekov's eyes opened again. "Hikaru, I'm cold. It-it is so cold."

"I know, Pavel." Gently, he lifted his friend's head onto his lap. "Take it easy kid. I've got you." Someone spread a jacket over Chekov's torn body. A kind but useless gesture. Sulu didn't bother to acknowledge it.

The medic appeared then. "Stretcher's on its way," he reported as he began taking his readings. He looked at Sulu and shook his head. The _Excelsior's_ captain kept his face from betraying his despair, hoping Chekov didn't see through it.

"Sulu? Sulu, remember vhen I first came aboard _Enterprise?_"

"Sure I do," he almost smiled at the memory.

"I vas scared to deat'."

"You were pretty green all right. Just out of the Academy --"

"I'm scared, Sulu, I'm --" again Chekov's fading whisper broke up into ragged, bloody coughs. He was pale as Death herself.

"Don't talk Pavel. I won't leave."

Typically, Chekov ignored the advice. "Everyone all right?"

"Yes, we're all fine."

"I didn't do so badly."

"You did fine." Sulu tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat. He couldn't. He thought he would choke.

"I em scared," the barely audible whisper reiterated.

"I know. But I'm here. I won't -- I won't let anything happen..."

Knowing better, Chekov sighed. His eyes stayed wide open as he stared up at his friend. Neither spoke for a while. Chekov murmured that he was cold and asked Sulu to say good-bye to everyone. He smiled once, to himself it seemed, but it faded quickly...

"I can't see." Chekov announced shortly after that. "Sulu, are you dere?" A hint of panic tainted his weak voice.

"Yes, I --"

"Are you dere? I can't feel anyt'ing any more. _Bozhe!_ Sulu! Sulu! I don't vant to die!" Terror filled his plea.

"Pavel!"

"Mama..." softly, like a prayer, that one last word left Pavel Chekov's lips.

"Pavel!" The Russian lay very still in his arms. Hikaru Sulu wept.

* * *

Hikaru Sulu woke in darkness and heard himself crying! He had to take several deep breaths to make himself stop. Damn! What had that dream been about?! He could barely remember any of it but he knew it concerned Pavel Chekov's death. He sat up. Chekov! The kid had taken a really stupid risk! Kirk had included him on a landing party. They'd beamed down to some planet supposedly to rescue a downed trader. But it had been a trap, an ambush. There'd been a grenade -- everyone ran. Except Ensign Chekov. He'd pounced on the thing, scooped it up and hurled it out of their midst. It exploded just as it left his hand. McCoy had said he was lucky he hadn't lost the hand. And his brains as well. There'd been some surgery and the kid did have a concussion. But he was supposed to be all right. Wasn't he? "Ok. I know this is ridiculous --" Sulu swung his legs to the floor and called out, "Lights." He pulled on some clothes and hurried out to sickbay.

Ensign N*Ruth, a medic recently transferred to the _Enterprise,_ was on duty. Sulu grinned sheepishly as her. Her people were distantly related to Vulcans but were far less stingy with their emotions. she smiled back. "So, what's the matter Sulu?"

"I've come to see Chekov."

"He;s asleep."

"It's important."

"Ok," she nodded at a door. "Through there."

Sulu went into the ward. Chekov was the only patient, and he was asleep. Until Sulu's shaking his shoulder woke him up. His sleepy voice murmured thickly in Russian.

"Wake up Pavel. Come on." The helmsman insisted.

"Sulu?" Chekov would have sat up but Sulu's hand on his chest kept him down. "Vhat is it?" His words were slurred.

"Pavel, listen to me. If you ever -- I mean ever -- do anything that stupid again, I'm gonna kill you!" 

"Oh. Okay." The reply was still a little fuzzy and more than a little confused.

"I mean it."

"Sure. Fine."

Sulu marched out. Chekov finally woke up completely. He pushed himself up on his good arm. He was alone. He must have been dreaming. He could have sworn Sulu had been here scolding him about something. He fell back down, curled up on his side, and pulled the covers up over his head. Ah, it was nice to have friends, he thought as he fell asleep again.

**FINIS**


End file.
